Pansycake
by ZeDancingHobbit
Summary: They call him a pansycake. And he knows it's true. But right here, right now, is his chance to finally get rid of this guilt. And maybe, for the first time ever, be a little brave. AU ending to Allegiant. T for mild language and violence. One-shot. Death!fic.


**So I finished Allegiant and was kind if disappointed, because I felt like Tris robbed Caleb of the chance to get rid of his guilt, and gave him even more. So. I have given him his chance here. (And the thing with Cara, it looked like Veronica was starting to set them up. So. Yeah.) hopefully I caught all of their personalities. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Divergent**

I stare at Beatrice, my jaw hanging slack. What is she doing?! This is not the plan this is not the plan this is not the plan-

She licks her lips and gestures for me to give her the backpack once again. The barrel of her gun stares at me, mocking me. "Just give it to your sister," it orders. "You couldn't do it anyways. She at least has a chance, pansycake."

Pansycake.

I am a pansycake. I know this. While Beatrice is the warrior between the two of us, I am the scholar. The one who would rather hold a pen than a gun. The one who aims for the target and hits the ceiling. The one who can list all the most efficient ways to save someone from a tragedy but is too afraid to actually do it. The one who would betray his family, his flesh and blood, because he is a coward. I am weak and foolish and stupid.

I am guilty.

I hear them talking about me. They call me weak. They call me a pansycake. They say all manner of things behind my back. Beatrice can hardly stand to look at me, sometimes. I don't blame her. I wish I could take it all back, make it all right again. I wonder if, given the chance, I actually would.

So as I stare at her, struggling to figure out what to do, watching her as she is willing to go on yet another death mission, I decide the only thing I can, as the time for decision making comes to a close. If I don't do this, I will have to live with the guilt pressing on me, smothering me, for the rest of my life.

I will make it right.

I sling the backpack off my shoulders so it sits between us, looking for a split second like I am going to hand it to her. A look of relief passes over her face, but changes to confusion when I slide my arms inside the straps and hug it to my body.

"Caleb?"

My voice is shaky. I cannot control the fear that grips me as I speak. "If you shoot me, we're all dead," I say.

"Caleb, don't-"

"I have to do this, Beatrice," I assert, my voice coming out harsher than intended, even though this is the last thing in the world I want to do.

She bites her lip as her eyes start to become glossy with tears, and I realize my sister is crying for me. It makes me both happy and sad, at the same time. "Caleb, I might be not be aff-"

"But maybe you will, and maybe you'll die, and I'll have to live with myself and the goddamn boyfriend of yours and I will not have the last member of my family dead because of my weakness!" I'm yelling at her now. Her gun hand trembles, ever so slightly, and I begin to edge past her, keeping the backpack between us as a shield. "So please. Let me do this," I plead, and she swallows before giving a tiny nod.

I breathe out a sigh of relief and sling the backpack over my shoulders again. "Cover me?" I ask, mustering a smile. She gives a tremulous laugh and nods.

"Always."

I swallow. This is the last time I'll be able to see her face. Talk to her. Be with her. The thought hits me like a ton of bricks, almost knocking the wind out of me.

"I love you, Beatrice," I whisper. I turn around and begin to run down the corridor, because I don't want to stay and listen to her answer. In case she doesn't say the same thing in return.

My legs, no matter how fast they pump, will not bring me to my destination quickly enough. I hear bullets being passed back and forth, and a few hit the wall in back of me. I stumble over my feet, terror making my legs weak, and just barely manage not to hit the floor. Oh, god. I'm gonna die.

As I open the backpack and rummage for the bomb and detonator with shaking hands, my heart pumps out a steady, quick beat. I-am go-ing to-die. I-am go-ing to-die. Over and over again, a drumbeat marching me to my death.

As I set the bomb on the door handle and clamp the claws over the edges, I realize my eyesight is blurry. Blinking hard, I feel tears start to run down my cheeks and oh my god I'm crying I'm going to die.

Tobias was wrong. I am not just doing this out of instinct. Maybe with his particular set of genes he's programmed to be that way, but I'm not. I have to force myself to continue. This isn't simply letting my body do the work. I don't know what to do. I am not built for this.

And I hate myself for it.

I duck behind the corner and ready the detonator, my finger hovering over the button. Can I really do this? Once I push this stupid little button, that's it. I'm dead. The serum will kill me and I will be dead.

I should've let Beatrice do this. Beatrice is made for this stuff, this derring-do, this bravery. Not Caleb. Caleb is an Erudite. Caleb is a coward.

Caleb is a pansycake.

But then images of Beatrice run through my head. Of growing up together, of talking, of laughing, of fighting. Me always correcting her. Me envying her. She always was the one to go against the rules. She always was the braver of us.

I want to be brave.

My finger slams down on the detonator and my hands cover my ears as the blast goes off, catapulting me into the wall. I swear internally as I attempt to gain my senses again. My ears are ringing, I'm dizzy, and there's blood streaming from a cut on my forehead. Great.

I don't so much hear as sense the sizzling of the serum erupting from the walls, and remember with a pang that it heralds my death. Already, I feel sticky and unclean. I remember that there are guards on my tail too, and I have to get into that room. Now.

I fight my way upwards off the floor and against the black encroaching on my vision. I hack, the serum making my lungs seem to collapse. My skin is itchy. I can't breath. Oh god.

Tears stream down my cheeks as my legs collapse and I sink to my knees. I can't do this. I can't. I failed. I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry Beatrice. I'm sorry mom and dad and Tobias and Uriah and Cara-Cara- and Christina and Amar everyone everyone I'm so sorry.

Beatrice.

Her smiling face returns to my mind's eye once again. I have failed her so, so many times. I will fail her once again.

No!

I scream at myself. No! Not again!

I fight to my knees and throw myself against the doors. They squeak and give, allowing me passage into the room. My lungs gulp in clear air, but it doesn't help at all. My systems are shutting down.

But David is here.

No, no, no! Why couldn't one stupid thing go right today?! He points a gun at me. With my vision failing miserably, my limbs growing weak, I have to bend over to gain my breathe.

He smirks. "Ha. Should've known they'd send you. Expendable."

I can't reply. I can't speak.

"You know, you really aren't doing that great of a job today, you and your group. We caught your little friend tampering with the lights-"

My head snaps up. No. Not Cara. Please not Cara.

"And they send you in here, the weakest of the lot?" He scoffs. "Figures."

"How-" My voice is cut off by a storm of coughing. "How are you-"

"Inoculation," he breezily replies, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I'm the only one in possession of it."

Of course. Even as it begins to black out, my Erudite mind filters through how of course he had it and of course he's been outsmarting us all along.

"Now," he says, his little moment of gloating past, "you realize, much as I believe you might have been a valuable asset, I will have to kill you." He sighs. "You had such a nice brain. So much potential. But I cannot have you stealing the thing that would bring to ruin my life's work."

Stealing? Through the buzz rocketing though my brain, the pounding noise of my blood rushing through my temples, I realize that he doesn't realize I intend to release it, not steal it.

Well, I suppose through the haze, as my legs begin to go spongy again, and my lungs threaten to collapse, there really is nothing else to do. I am running out of time.

I give a clumsy leap for the big machine, my feet slipping on the floor. The gun goes off, and I scream as fire hits my back. It hurts, but I have no idea how, because I'm numb, so numb, and why won't my fingers work? They clumsily type in the code as the gun goes off one, two more times, each bullet lodging somewhere in my skin. I collapse to my knees as I punch the last digit, my fingers scrabbling for the green button.

David yells for me to stop.

I scream at him, "I'M NOT A PANSYCAKE!"

And I hit the button.

I slump to the floor as the serum releases. And even though it is selfish and weak and cowardly I start to sob because oh god it hurts hurts hurts my skin is on fire and I can't feel anything and my vision is all black and there's something wet and sticky on my teeth and I can't breath and I'm dying. I sob because I really didn't want to do this. I sob because I still feel so guilty.

I sob because I'm afraid.

Suddenly, I see feet, and I am just able to turn my aching head to allow travel up the body they belong to. My tongue pokes out from behind red teeth and cracked lips. "M-mom?" I whisper.

She smiles and bends down to caress my face. She's wearing her old Abnegation gray clothing, and even though I know this is impossible because she is dead (a dying-induced hallucination, the Erudite part of my brain whispers) it feels so good.

"I'm sorry, mom, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry," I stammer out, and start to cry harder.

"Shh," she whispers. "You're forgiven. You're forgiven."

"I'm scared, I'm really scared," I confess. "Mom I'm so scared."

"Shh," she hushes me again. "It's all going to be okay. It's all going to be okay, my brave, brave, boy." She leans down to plant a kiss on my forehead, and I close my heavy-lidded eyes. "You did it, Caleb. You saved them."

"Mom?" I mumble, feeling my grip on life start to ease. "Is it-is I gonna be okay?"

She grips my hand with hers, her cool, soft fingers squeezing my hot, agonized skin. "Of course it will."

My mind flits through my entire life in so much time it feels like eternity, so little time it feels like half a second. Me and Beatrice reading. Me and Dad studying together. Me and Mom talking late into the night. Mom cutting my hair. Playing. Running. Changing factions. New things, new experiences. Not wanting Beatrice to be there, yet never wanting her to leave. Betraying them. Hating myself. Beatrice Mom Dad Beatrice Mom Dad Beatrice.

And as I relinquish my grip on life, I smile.

Because I'm finally, for the first time ever, a little bit Dauntless.

For one shining moment, I'm a little bit brave.

~finis

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